The Grimoire
by eowynjedi
Summary: A year after ExDeath's defeat, the world is at peace. Sage Ghido is murdered, and his grimoire, the Grimoire of All the World, is gone. The Warriors of Dawn must find it, before its knowledge can be turned to an evil as great as ExDeath. Final Fantasy V.
1. Chapter 1

Rain pounded the glass windows of Tycoon Castle, wild winds hurling and lashing sleet in an intense but futile night-time assault on the stone. All its residents had been safely got in at the first sign of the storm, winter's last gasp against the inevitable: spring. 

Lenna stood at the window, watching the sleet gather into little towers against the panes. It was a rare moment of peace--her court had been entirely occupied the past three months with preparations for Renascence Day, the day Neo-ExDeath had been obliterated, and the Crystals had restored the world to its proper state. All over the world, people would be holding massive celebrations. Which meant long hours spent in planning meetings deciding what the Grand Marshal would be wearing and the square acreage of the banners and cleanup costs and a thousand other things--all while sitting on chairs that might well have been rocks for all they did to ease the feet. Which had been Lenna's idea, of course, to keep the waffling and the hedgery to a minimum--still, six hours of it quite took the satisfaction away from her cleverness.

She could see nothing beyond the little towers and ramparts of sleet gathering on the panes, building, collapsing, climbing again. But it was nice to just stand and let her mind drift--and from Renascence Day, it was a natural jump to Faris. Her seafaring sister might be fighting her way through a storm this very second, while Lenna stood snug and sound in the castle. How long had it been since they'd seen each other? Lenna wondered. Six months, she guessed, maybe more than that. She'd walked into the throne room one morning to find a crown and a redstone brooch sitting on a yellow dress. Since then she'd heard no word from her sister. Plenty of reports, though, of the depredations of a Captain Scherwiz from various trade delegations, so Lenna knew she was all right.

There was comfort in knowing Faris was happy, but Lenna still found herself wishing that she had stayed. A bit selfish, she knew--if anyone was unsuited to the throne, it was Faris--but a queen's life was a lonely one.

A sharp rap-rap-rap on the door snapped her out of her reverie. "Enter," she said, doing her best to keep weariness and exasperation from her voice. A queen must always be composed. A lady-in-waiting must also be composed, she thought as young Trisse entered in the simple-but-elegant deep pink dress worn by Lenna's ladies-in-waiting. She curtsied to her Queen, meeting her eyes as the Tycoons instructed their attendants to do.

"Your Majesty, there is a messenger from Bal just arrived. He says his news is urgent, and he awaits your convenience."

"Very well. I'll come," said Lenna. Strange juxtaposition, that phrase. No matter how pressing any news--famine, plague, bandits--it always had to wait until "her convenience." There were rulers who would and did put everything on hold until dinner was over, or until they had finished the rubber at whist. But Lenna wasn't thinking of those sorts of rulers as she hastened down the grand staircase. What could be happening in Bal, she wondered anxiously, that could keep a messenger riding in this weather? Was it an attack on Bal? Had something terrible happened to Krile? She forced herself to keep a cool, royal composure as she ran an eye over the messenger standing in the atrium. He was clad in the green-and-gold livery of Bal, the cloth soaked dark with rain and sleet, and the trousers specked with bright yellow feathers. He bowed low at the sight of Lenna--he was barely keeping on two feet, she saw. Lenna felt a wave of sympathy. "Trisse, fetch a chair for our guest, and some hot tea," she said, and Trisse scurried off at once. "Sirrah, I am amazed at your endurance."

"Your Majesty," he said, breathlessly and wearily. The ever-efficient Trisse arrived just then, carrying two plain chairs from the servants' mess, and she was followed closely by a page with a steaming mug. "Please, sit down," said Lenna as Trisse set the chairs down and handed the man his tea.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said gratefully, holding the mug in two hands. "My Queen bids me give you grave news. Sage Ghido is dead."

Years of royal instruction and discipline were all that saved Lenna from gasping in dismay. "Dead?" she repeated, aghast. "When? Of what?"

"A month back now, Your Majesty. But--" He shook his head, searching for the right words, failing to find them. He reached inside his waterproofed belt-pouch and pulled out a sealed letter. "This is directly from Queen Krile, Your Majesty."

Lenna tore open the letter immediately.

_Dear Lenna,_

_This is the worst of news. I'm going to say that first. So brace yourself._

_Sage Ghido is dead._

_It pains me greatly to write this, but it is true. Worse still is what he died of. Ghido died no natural death. It was three weeks past, now. I don't know why I wanted to visit him, but I just felt I _had _to--I can't explain it exactly, but I knew something was wrong, badly wrong. And when I reached the Library, I was right. It was horrible, Lenna, shelves thrown down and librarians dead, and then Ghido himself. I'll never forget it. His shell was split in two. Seven hundred years that old turtle's been keeping lore, and he died by an axe._

_One of the librarians had survived by hiding under some shelves, and he told me that it was a beautiful woman and someone in a black cloak (by the Crystals, isn't that what you'd expect?). He couldn't have fought them of course, but he saw them taking two things: a giant tome and something in a wooden box. That tome, Lenna, that was the Grimoire, the Grimoire of All the World._

_I don't need to tell you how serious this is. If whoever those two were working studies it too thoroughly, we could have another ExDeath on our hands._

_If Bartz is with you, let him read this too. I'm trying to get another letter to Faris, but you know how hard it is to send mail to pirates. I hope this arrives before Renascence Day, but if it doesn't, I'll tell you when we meet at Carwen._

_Your Devoted Friend,  
Krile _

"Majesty?" said Trisse. Lenna jerked back to reality with a start. Trisse was looking at her with concern in her hazel eyes, but her handmaiden's discipline prevented her from showing any more emotion than that. Lenna at first thought to chide herself for looking so worried as she smoothed the shock and horror from her face, but then, how else could she have been expected to react to it?

Her first impulse was to give Trisse the order to have Minryuu saddled straight away, to fly straight to the Library and investigate for herself, but she checked herself. Haring off like this had gotten her into trouble before--she remembered the goblins from her first adventure quite clearly. Calm, patience, caution. Those three things were essential, she told herself. She must wait, she must sit and calmly compose a suitable reply to Krile, and wait to speak to her in person when the Renascence Progression reached Carwen. Yes, that would certainly be the prudent course of action. The course of action that showed the most sense, she told herself.

It didn't work.

But she would wait until the end of the storm, at least. No sense flying in this weather and having poor Minryuu drop from exhaustion.

"Trisse, see about getting this man a hot meal and a comfortable room," she said briskly. Trisse only let the briefest flicker of unhappiness across her face as she curtsied and let the messenger away, leaving Lenna feeling somewhat guilty about having to leave her loyal handmaiden in the dark like this. But--Lenna glanced back at the letter._ If Bartz is with you._ Bartz was... she didn't know where Bartz was. He'd gone off wandering three months back, promising to return in two. That was typical for him, of course, and the subject of not only one argument between them, but this, now--he needed to know this. And she had no idea how to let him know.

"Damn," she cursed softly, folding up the letter and sliding it back into its envelope. She could give Bartz the title of Royal Cartographer, give him the finest rooms in the castle, try to chain him to his desk with mountains of paperwork, but nothing could ever stop him from his eternal wandering. She needed him here, now. Not as her consort, but as a Warrior of Dawn. And then there was Faris, curse it all. How could she get a pirate to come to Carwen? She would have to send a messenger to Tule, and one from the town, not her Royal Post-Carriers. If she sent one of them, he would be mugged blind the moment he set foot in town.

It could not wait. She hated to send anyone out in this dreadful mess--she could remember the state of Krile's messenger quite clearly--and it would have to be a volunteer. A volunteer to ride to Tule in a winter storm with Renascence Day just eight days away. Doubtless her treasurer would not be pleased with her when he discovered the item on his desk in the morning, but that she could deal with. "Page Garilt!" she hailed a lad scurrying across the hall. He stopped and bowed. "Have my chocobo saddled. I'm going into town."


	2. Chapter 2

The cloaked figure sat huddled in the special corner that the barkeep kept dark and shady. Usually that corner was occupied by peddlers of information, jewel thieves, lawkeepesrs-turned-rogues, and anyone else who fell under the broad-reaching title of "a queer customer." They all looked the same on the outside, but Faris knew well that the faces beneath the cloak were as diverse and peculiar as his crew. 

Well, "her" crew, but that was only a technicality. As far as Faris or any of his pirates were concerned, he was only one-fourth a woman. It had been somewhat embarassing, after returning to Tule, to announce it loud to his crew and see only about a third of them surprised by the news. More often there was relief on the faces of those who had been experiencing severe doubts about their manliness. By the Crystals--he'd been quite glad to get under weigh after that. But that was beside the point.

He kept his eye on the cloaked figure. Erdel Kert next to him nudged Faris with an elbow. "New cloak, eh?"

"Aye." Faris sipped his ale.

"Worth talkin' to, d'ye think?" the first mate went on. Faris raised a violet eyebrow.

"Hasn't shifted himself for three hours, about. Don't think he's going to the privy, otherwise I'd corner him then." Faris had already noticed the cloak's apparent lack of thirst--the table in front of him was completely empty. It would be information, then. Jewel-sellers or shady cartographers usually laid out some tiny-but-enticing hint of their secrets to attract customers. Of course, Faris was the only customer that this cloak could have tonight. He and his crew had kicked out all the other drunken dogs when they'd arrived, pockets and purses overflowing with gold from a raid on a Walsen treasure ship. If he didn't pay a visit to the cloak, nobody would. But business was good, and he wasn't feeling particularly curious toni--

He sat up straight. Was it just him, or was that a hint of pink under that hood? No, it must have been his imagination. He glanced down at his tankard suspiciously, wondering how old this barrel was.

There it was again: just a wisp of pink.

Impossible.

"Maybe he's got something int'resting to sell," said Faris to Kert. He set his ale down with a thump and strode over to the corner. Only Kert's eyes followed; the rest of the crew were too busy singing and making silly bets with knives to notice their captain sliding into the seat opposite the cloak.

And this close to him, Faris could see that it was definitely pink hair. He glowered at the cloak as he inspected her face, or what was visible of it in the shadows. "What the hell d'you think you're doing here?" he whispered across the table. "Don't you have that bloody Rennins thing t' be busy with?"

"I needed to see you, Sarisa," said his sister. Faris tensed, throwing a suspicious glance around the bar.

"_Don't call me that!_" he said, his voice an urgent whisper. "Hell, Lenna, it's bad enough bein' a woman--what d'you think they'd do if they knew I was--I was--" He couldn't bring himself to actually say it.

"A princess?" Faris winced. "Fine, have it be Faris then." Lenna shook her head, exasperated by her sister's bizarre whims. "Listen, I had a letter from Krile, two days back. You remember Ghido, right?"

"That turtle in the Library, yeah."

"He's been murdered."

Faris suddenly wished he'd brought his ale. "He's been _what_?" he gasped. "When? How?"

"Nearly a month back, now--he was murdered, Faris."

Faris slumped back in his chair. Ghido. Murdered. _Ghido_. Fiery rage built up inside him. He'd _liked _that old curmudgeon of a turtle, dammit. Hell--Ghido had fought ExDeath, for Crystals' sake! Seven hundred bloody years that damn librarian had been hanging around. How could anyone have killed him? "Who?" he asked darkly, leaning forward over the table.

Lenna made a helpless gesture. "All we know is that it was a cloaked figure and a beautiful woman."

"_Why?_"

This time, Lenna hesitated. That was not something she normally did. Bad sign. "His Grimoire, Faris," she said at last. "The Grimoire of all the World."

"The gri--wait, say that again?"

"It's a book. About everything. The Crystals, the Void, the kingdoms... everything."

Everything--in the entire...? _Everything_? Damn. If it wasn't for the news of Ghido's death, Faris' eyes would have lit up with the treasure-gleam. As it was...

"They killed him for a _book?!_"

Drunk as they were, giddy as they were, every manjack of the crew froze in place, eyes fixed on their captain. Faris seemed not to notice them, chair flung back into the wall. His eyes blazed pure fury at Lenna. Kert rose very carefully and walked over on invisible eggshells, the only moving piece in this momentary tableau. It was dangerous, very dangerous to disturb Faris when he was in this sort of mood. The last time Kert had seen it was when Faris had become captain of the ship--after he had killed the old one for murdering his "uncle." The cloaked figure at the table shook his head frantically as Kert reached tentatively to touch Faris' shoulder. "No!" he--she--hissed.

That single word seemed to snap Faris out of his sudden wrath. He blinked quickly, several times, and took his hand off the knife stuck deep into the table. His eyes travled around the tavern, only noticing now the entire crew staring at him, in terror. "What?" he snapped, feeling himself go furiously red with embarrassment. "I thought this was supposed t'be a bash! You, Zart, strangle a tune outta that fiddle!"

Zart obeyed at once, striking up a lively reel. The crew relaxed back into their merrymaking, clapping and stamping as Faris turned back to Kert. "You gave me a turn, there, cap'n," his first mate said.

"Yeah." Faris cleared his throat self-conciously. He hadn't meant to bellow like that. He hadn't realized he'd bellowed like that. "Go on, get on with you."

"Aye aye, cap'n." Kert went back to the celebrations.

"I know it's hard news," said Lenna, sympathetically. "But--Faris, if the thieves unlock the Grimoire's secrets... Krile put it best. It could be ExDeath again. Worse than ExDeath."

Lenna spoke with a sincerity that unnerved Faris. What in the name of the Crystals could possibly be worse than an ugly-armored sorceror and a ravenous world-eater? Lenna may not have known much about the gritty, cutlass-and-tavern world he lived in, but when it came to things like politics, or science, or reading, Faris would trust Lenna 'till doomsday. And if Krile--_Krile_--had said that--he needed a drink, _now_.

"Oi! Wench! Two ales, over here!"


End file.
